Inarticulate
by Ewan's girl1
Summary: Vaughn confesses his feelings. My first attempt at Alias fanfic, Vaughn POV
1. Default Chapter

Author's Note: This is my first Alias fic, so please be kind and review. Sorry, I know there are probably some sort of similar ideas out there, but I've never seen any stories that used this song and I think it fits really well. Vaughn POV, set in the hopefully not too distant future.  
  
Disclaimer: Of course I don't own the characters. Or the song.  
  
Archive? I'd consider it an honour! Just tell me.  
  
**********  
  
Inarticulate  
  
My eyes were glued to the screen in front of me. Sydney Bristow was on yet another mission trying to retrieve information for both the CIA and SD-6, and we'd managed to tap into the building's security system so we could watch her through their cameras. It was a museum gala, and she was mingling with the guests, dressed up in a beautiful but rather revealing blue dress with a blonde wig. Momentary jealousy flashed through me as I saw her laughing at something a man had said. He got to look at her in public, to let everyone see that he was talking to her and enjoying it. I always had to hide.  
  
'It's not really Sydney he's talking to, Vaughn,' I reminded myself. 'It's "Michelle Owens", rich divorcÃ©e and art critic. You get to see the real Sydney Bristow and that's a rare privilege."  
  
While I lectured myself, Sydney had finished with the social butterfly act and headed towards where the documents we needed were hidden. I held my breath as she spoke to a security guard at the top of a deserted staircase. One knee to the stomach and a kick to the head and he was out. No, she definitely wasn't in socialite mode anymore - this was kick-ass Syd. It always amazed me how quickly she could switch from being one person to a totally different one.  
  
As I watched her work, the words of one of my favourite songs kept playing through my head, and I realized how perfectly they fit Sydney. I thought for the millionth time how much danger she willingly put herself into every day. Each time she went on a mission, there was that chance she'd never come back. Tonight, the 'what ifs' were voicing themselves more persistently than usual. What if one of these secret meetings does end up being our last? What if she'll never come home to you again, or you'll never get to see that hockey game? How would you feel if, God forbid, she ever died without knowing exactly how you feel? And tonight, I decided I was going to do something about it. In my head, I saw the scale with all the risks of getting involved with her piled up on one side, and the risks of continuing to wait on the other. That waiting side was getting too heavy. 


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Yes, it's mushy. That's my specialty. (  
  
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Sydney's footsteps sounded loud in the empty warehouse. My heart rate jumped. As soon as she came in, I noticed a new little bruise on her face which she hadn't covered up yet. As always, I fought down my anger at the thought that anyone could hurt her.  
  
I saw her eyes take in the objects sitting beside the crate I was on. Of course she would notice them, with her training, but she didn't ask. We went through the business stuff first, though my mind wasn't on it. That aside, she gestured to the CD player again, curiosity written on her face.  
  
"What's that stuff?" she asked.  
  
"You'll see." I pulled two candles out of the bag and set them on the crate beside me, then proceeded to light them. A silly little gesture, I know. Two tiny flames didn't do much in a big, dim warehouse. But they changed the atmosphere somehow. "Damn!" I muttered as the flame got too close to my fingers and I shook the match out quickly. Her gaze was burning the back of my neck and I turned to face her again.  
  
"Syd…" I began. I couldn't find the words. How could I let her know how I felt without just complicating things more? Her eyes never left my face. "I just… You probably already know this but, well, I wanted to make sure you did…"  
  
A soft chuckle escaped her.  
  
"What?" I asked.  
  
"The stoic Vaughn, always cool under pressure," she grinned. "I don't think I've ever seen you this inarticulate."  
  
I chuckled too. She'd managed to put me a little more at ease, one of the many reasons I felt this way about her.  
  
"This isn't easy for me, okay?" I defended myself. "Just listen to the song, would you? It says this better than I can." I pushed play and stepped towards the crate where she was perched, my hand extended. "May I?"  
  
She took my hand as she stood up, then placed her arms lightly around my neck. We began to sway gently to the soft music playing, as Elvis Costello's voice filled the room.  
  
She may be the face I can't forget  
  
The trace of pleasure or regret  
  
May be my treasure or the price I have to pay  
  
She may be the song that summer sings  
  
May be the chill that autumn brings  
  
May be a hundred different things  
  
Within the measure of a day  
  
She may be the beauty or the beast  
  
May be the famine or the feast  
  
May turn each day into a heaven or a hell  
  
She may be the mirror of my dreams  
  
The smile reflected in a stream  
  
She may not be what she may seem  
  
Inside her shell  
  
Syd definitely wasn't what she might seem to so many people - the people who thought she had a boring job at the bank, or the people who she beat up. I smiled at that thought. She was so much more.  
  
She who always seems so happy in a crowd  
  
Whose eyes can be so private and so proud  
  
No one's allowed to see them when they cry  
  
She may be the love that cannot hope to last  
  
Beckons indeed from shadows of the past  
  
That I'll remember 'til the day I die  
  
She may be the reason I survive  
  
The why and wherefore I'm alive  
  
The one I'll care for through the rough and ready years  
  
Me, I'll take her laughter and her tears  
  
And make them all my souvenirs  
  
For where she goes I've got to be  
  
The meaning of my life is she  
  
After a few seconds, we pulled apart just enough so that we could look at each other. As she stood there in front of me in her jeans and t- shirt, emotion in her beautiful eyes, I had never seen her look so sexy. None of the times she had worn skimpy dresses for missions could compare to that moment. And suddenly, the right words came easily.  
  
"Syd, I love you."  
  
She responded gently, "That's all you had to say." 


End file.
